


Chapter Forty-Eight: Tomorrow Never Knows

by CavalierConvoy



Series: MTMTE Series One: Shoot Straight with a Crooked Gun [49]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers: Beast Machines, Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: Fortification, Gen, Ghosts, Haunting, Hide and Seek, Other, Possession, Skirmishing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 08:51:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3890134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalierConvoy/pseuds/CavalierConvoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three hundred years from now, Skyfire admits to Silverbolt that the generator may have caused more repercussions than just addled memories, as Thrust, succumbing to regression into his past self, focuses on his god-appointed duty.</p><p>And Pantera goes off on her own and wrecks up Strika's battalion, but finds herself face to face with the undead shell of an Autobot she never knew. Or at least, never knew in this time line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chapter Forty-Eight: Tomorrow Never Knows

That ignorance and hate  
May mourn the dead  
It is believing  
It is believing  
—["Tomorrow Never Knows"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6a3NcwfOBzQ) by The Beatles, from _Revolver_  
  


Iacon Proper  
Under Cybertropolis  
Three Hundred Stels from Rendezvous with Wreckers' Spoils

The roads, intended for larger vehicles, were ill-maintained. Strika's HAVs and tanks would have a slow, even impossible trek to traverse the ruined highways. Thrust had little issue avoiding the pitfalls and rubble, and the undead speedster was not registering the damage done to its chassis. Thrust was drawn to a point, working on instinct. He knew these routes, and not from his internal GPS.

Not him. The old him, yes.

And that was unnerving.

Thrust did not want to be the old him, the bumbling lackey, everyone's scapegoat, cowering at every perceived threat —

— slag. He had come full circle, back where he started: a joke amongst his peers.

Well, frag that. Better serve the gods of old than the manufactured one Megatron was aspiring to become.

No. That was the old him thinking again. Cannot go back there. The brunt of the joke. _Refuzzzzze..._

The god was whispering again, the murmurs of a dreamer, caught in a nightmare. Pleading for help. For release.

"Wazzzpinator comply with metrotitan'zzz wish," the old him spoke aloud, succumbing to the plea.

 _< <It's up to you now, Waspinator,>>_ Starscream — no, now the other one, Skyfire — encouraged as the undead speedster downshifted and braked, leaving and arc of scorched rubber on the tarmac. _< <I've gotta clear a path for the others before the Air Commander comes to.>>_

 

*

 

"Sit-rep," Pantera ordered when she and Rattrap rejoined the girls and Nightscream.

"Silverbolt, Braddore, and Stormrave went to retrieve Skyfire," Inuarai stated, glancing over her shoulder.

"Frag," Pantera growled, sharing a look of exasperation with Rattrap.

"It gets worse," Nightscream added. "Strika's bringing down her HAVs and tanks to flush us out."

"And Thrust may or may not have gone AWOL," Blancwulf paced around her sister.

"Thrust?" Pantera's ear perked up. "If he was close to the ship when the generator flared...that might work to our advantage."

"Care to share with the class, kitty-cat?" Rattrap questioned.

"Why would Thrust go AWOL?" she demanded.

"Had enough of the slag and took off?" Inuarai suggested.

"Might as well join up with us," Blancwulf countered. "Which he hasn't. Going lone wolf at this time is suicide."

Rattrap gestured to the larger canine and, glancing at Pantera, nodded. "See? Even the fluff ball gets it. So where you going with this?"

"Thrust isn't acting on his own accord," Pantera retorted.

Rattrap scratched the back of his neck. "You thinkin' Sky might have jet-packed on Starscream's possession to ... hack ... Thrust?"

"Say what?" Nightscream demanded.

"Thrust — rather, Waspinator — was possessed by Starscream during the Beast Wars," Blancwulf explained, "as was Skyfire. Difference is that Sky's a fraggin' genius and Waspy — well — wasn't. Basically, Screamer left open a back door to allow access at a later date. And Sky's aggressive enough of a nerd to use that to his advantage."

"It's a running theory," Pantera agreed, "But I'm more thinking Thrust may not be in the driver's seat. Pups, you take the point; Nightscream, you're scouting ahead. Any sign of trouble, you fall behind us."

"'Us?'" Rattrap repeated.

"We're the veterans, mouse," the jaguar growled, then, to the girls, "Let's meet up with Optimus."

 

*

 

"I'se not likin' this, Stormy." Braddore hesitated at the threshold of the command deck. "This isn't right."

Stormrave kept her searchlights strafing the hallways, illuminating the occasional debris that may or may not be a body part. "No one's saying it is. But if Sky's on track, and this ship's got some advanced drive, we can't let it fall into Megatron's hands."

"But we'se not exactly set up to dismantle said drive."

"Which means we need to blow the ship up."

"Great idea. Iffin we figure out how to shut said drive down to keep it from destroying half o' Cybertron, maybe even the galaxy, in the process."

"Yeah, that could be a problem." Stormrave agreed, bringing her spot on a doorway. "Hey, Braddore? What's the Tyrest Accord?"

"Dunno — tip o' my tongue, though. Huh." The gangly Maximal studied the plaque his companion had illuminated.

"Like it's something we should have paid attention to but didn't?" the former Vehicon suggested.

"I'se always pay attention," Braddore countered, continuing the trek down the hallway. Stormrave hesitated, but followed a few clicks behind.

 _< <It's a Cybertronian codex that was ratified and adopted by the Galactic Council,>>_ Skyfire explained, _< <primarily for dealing with criminal law. In so few words. A bit more complicated, but it's the gist of it. And it didn't exist in our time line. But it's bleeding in. I'm wondering now if the anomaly reaches further than when the ship's time of origin.>>_

"That's doin' nothin' to make us feel any more at ease, me son," Braddore grumbled.

 _< <All the more reason to get this figured out. Keep me posted on your status. I'm doing what I can to keep Obsidian at bay, but if we can get the weapons systems operational, I can concentrate on the complicated equations. Thing is — >>_ Skyfire cut himself off. _< <Never mind; isn't important now. Bridge about three hundred metres from your current position, dead ahead. Once you get in, I'll be able to walk you through the start up process. I'm going to check in on Silverbolt.>>_ The transmission ended in a squelch of static.

Even with a faceplate, Stormrave's posture revealed something amiss.

"You all right, Stormy?" Braddore prompted.

"I don't think we're the only ones on board," she revealed.

"We'se the only ones bein' alive," the albatross Maximal reminded.

"I'm not ready to rule in favour of ghosts," Stormrave countered, leading the charge to the bridge.

 

*

 

_< <Silverbolt?>>_

"Skyfire," the condor Maximal acknowledged, examining the wreckage of Autobots before him. He opted to stay by the hole, with the headless Decepticon, as part of the sentry.

_< <Braddore and Stormrave are almost to the bridge. Once we get weapons operational, we could contact the others. I'm thinking we'd be able to access the Iacon mainframe from — >>_

"Skyfire," Silverbolt interrupted. "I know you're trying to help, but...but is all this necessary?"

A quarter cycle passed before Skyfire responded. _< <I think it is. So does 'Tera.>>_

"This ship...it's not right. It's not just the dead. It feels ... wrong."

_< <It's been torn apart and put back together. It's held together by quantum foam and the will of a dying metrotitan. If we don't do something, if we don't disconnect the ship from the 'titan, we could have a cataclysmic event on our hands.>>_

"I think he's telling the truth."

Silverbolt's head snapped up, a throwing blade between his fingers as he scanned the interior.

_"I'm a friend. No worries, please...Silverbolt, what is? I'm only trying to help."_

The voice was youthful, neutral. And disembodied, which only heightened Silverbolt's warning systems.

"Who are you?" the Maximal demanded, then gasped as the sensation of air being sucked into a vacuum struck his lungs, and then ... nothing. Silverbolt was alone once more.

_< <Echoes of the crew. Maybe ghosts, maybe not. It's an effect of the generator, that much I know.>>_

"Skyfire — "

 _< <Let them help,>>_ Skyfire pleaded. _< <It may aid them towards peace. This was an Autobot ship. Listen to them; they may know things we don't. If they tell us anything, it may help to piece together this puzzle.>>_

 _"Though, in all truth,"_ another voice whispered, this one too close to Silverbolt's audio receptor, deep, seductive, and full of malice, _"you may want to ask them about their prisoner."_

 

*  
Iacon Proper  
Aquaducts

 

Pantera was uncertain whether it was desperation or the effects of the quantum generator that spurred her into action. Equal parts both, perhaps.

And the whispers were not helping matters.

Had it been the one, back on the ship, she would have been able to deal with it. Maybe not appropriately, but she would have dealt with it.

But they were waking up. Likely not the best description of what was transpiring, but close enough for her linear mode of thinking to handle while she was rushing the enemy.

_"You got a battalion, thirty-six strong, of those weird-lookin' 'Cons, dead ahead!"_

"What's their formation?" she demanded.

_"Phalanx, six by six: HAVs front and centre, tanks on the outside — nice and tight."_

"Planning to run over us, Strika?" Pantera observed.

_"If you're gonna get your crazy-aft Wrecker up, keep alert and stay alive — we don't have the 'bots to back you up. I'll watch your aft as long as I can, but can't guarantee I ain't gonna fade on you."_

"Understood. Are you able to relay that info to Primal?"

_"I can try, but make no promises."_

"All I can ask for; thanks, Blaster."

Tank drones' turrets were mounted on the right; she stuck to their left, running along the culvert. Six by six — they left room for mobility for a eight-by-four, with four on real guard, or a barn-door opening to let the more agile HAV drones swarm a skirmish.

Thing was, tactical genius was one thing when one could predict the enemy's movements. Likely Megatron had figured out by now she was on the offencive, put some facts together, and alerted his generals that they would have to consider variables and irregularities and —

Pantera popped up out of the culvert and, transforming, unsheathed the hammer, taking out the heads of the first two tank drones with one swing, before infiltrating the ranks. "Maximal signature detected" echoing from all around her. Half the HAV drones transformed to lock on her, searchlights crisscrossing her path. Aiming for knees, then heads as they toppled; repeat, dodging and weaving, using fallen drones as cover against laser fire. Once chaos had been established, she returned the hammer to her holster and dropped to beast mode, diving into the right-side culvert and bolting. If she could continue the hit and run tactics —

_"Ackbar, Art! ACKBAR!"_

"How many and positions?" she snarled, keeping her head down and optics scanning.

_"Right on top of you! Get outta there!"_

She had a couple of HAVs on her aft; those posed little issue. It was the phalanx of twelve by a slag-tonne deep barrelling down on her position.

_Impossible odds? Certain death? Frag it._

Slowing, she jumped out of the culvert, transforming, once again, drawing the hammer.

"Wreck and rule," she growled, advancing with head down and optics forward.

And pandemonium struck the phalanx from behind.

Metal against metal crunched, clearing out the rear guards; a spray of curdled energon, a sickening red glow, and a battered Autobot — at one time white, red, and black — unsheathed two swords at its hips, clearing out the the HAVs with wide, brutal sweeps.

She recoiled, bringing the hammer up in guard. It was the dead Autobot from the ship, the one she did not recognise.

At first. Now vague memories sifted to the surface. "Blaster, you seeing this?" she whispered.

_"I am, but it ain't Drift in the driver's seat!"_

"Friend or foe?" _Dammit, Starscream!_

_"Currently, I'd say friend, but be on guard!"_

 

*

Iacon Proper

"We have problems, Big Bot!" Cheetor announced, skittering to a stop. "HAV drones are patrolling the main arterial, and tanks are positioned at every underground entrance for the next ten klicks!"

"Great," Black Arachnia grumbled. "So Megatron's figured out about the metrotitan. Wonderful."

Optimus lowered his head, weighing the options. "Unless Skyfire's defences had been breeched — "

" — which is likely — " the arachnid interrupted.

" — I don't think that's the reason for the beefed up security."

"The elder," Botanica stated, her tone north of disappointment.

"I have reason to believe the generator affected both her and Skyfire; there is the possibility that she may pose a danger to herself."

"And us?" Black Arachnia suggested.

"Not intentionally," Optimus shook his head. "Which may be why she's split off — she's come to the same conclusion."

"We can't afford to be separated," Cheetor countered. "If Megatron's making a push—"

"She should have thought of that before attacking Obsidian's drones," Botanica harrumphed.

Optimus exhaled, setting his shoulders. "Arachnia, scout the service tunnels in the immediate vicinity," he ordered. "Find a way back to the surface and double back to the ship. Botanica, accompany her. Cheetor, with me."

"Splitting up, Optimus — is that wise?" Cheetor questioned.

"Wise? Perhaps not. Necessary? If Skyfire is right, and we are facing an extinction level event if the engines blow, we may not have a choice."

"Send the sappers to take care of the engine and back Sky up, or take over in the case he fails," Black Arachnia pointed out. "On it."

"Understood," Botanica agreed, as she and the spider Maximal departed company through a drainage tunnel.

Cheetor waited until the two were out of audio range before turning to his leader. "Two of us versus a couple of tank battalions? Why not?"

"Cheetor," Optimus warned, finger to his lip. After a ten click silence, he whispered, "Do you hear that?"

"Engines," the youth flattened his ears against his head. "Big Bot, they're advancing."

"But there's something else," Optimus strained to catch what may have been snippets of conversation.

"Wait, wings...Nightscream!"

"That's not it — meet up with them, then double back here and we'll devise a plan of attack." Optimus did not move from his position.

Cheetor, for something to do, agreed, skittering down the culvert and racing towards his approaching teammates. After a quick brush against Blancwulf as a greeting, he relayed Optimus' order to the other four Maximals —

"Wait," he regarded Rattrap exclusively. "Where's 'Tera?"

"Hmph." Rattrap cocked his head. "Where do you think?"

"I thought you said she was a team player," Nightscream directed his critique to Cheetor.

"She's clearing a path for us," Cheetor argued. "She's running decoy."

Optimus winced, then glanced around. "Who are you?" he questioned aloud.

"Not again," Nightscream whispered; Blancwulf whined, pacing in a tight circle.

"At this point, we'll take all the help we can get," Optimus warned. "He's one of the sparks from the Lost Light. He's agreed to help us with communications as long as he can."

"Communications? With who?" Blancwulf's ears shot up.

"Our mechs on the ship," the gorilla Maximal reported, "and Pantera. If we can relay with Botanica and Arachnia...thank you."

"Autobot?" Rattrap questioned.

Primal nodded. "I have no reason to believe otherwise."

"At least we found Autobots," Inuarai brought up. "I'd hate to think if we stumbled across Decepticons."

 

NEXT CHAPTER: The Long, Hard Road Out Of Hell


End file.
